After sweeping-statement mistake.
Promises are powerless,
A sleeplessness made me
Often times I pull at the memory of you
And rope up buckets of ocean water.
I am the sand archived in your holiday-read,
I am a fireplace in the commonplace of your summer.
I am the sand in the dining room, backseat of the car, mother's toes,
I am unbent heat, kissed.
Beg for this,
I want to stretch out, fuck, fall.